CLEVELAND…You’ve Got to be Tough!

What do all of these images have in common, and more importantly, what do they have to do with art? They, and countless other images and stories, are all part of the collective psyche that we as born-and-bred Clevelanders share. They are also part of the fodder that inspired the current independent art exhibit All Things Cleveland at Asterisk Gallery in Tremont. The installation is being described as “a visual roast of this glorious city by Cleveland artists.” The gallery statement goes on to say that “the object was to produce an exhibition that promotes a self-deprecating view of Cleveland by Clevelanders. The work must represent or depict Cleveland in some way, shape, or form. Think more of a less positive Harvey Pekarian viewpoint, burnt perogies [sic], the continual grief and despair we feel each and every day, the adverse effect our sports teams have on our mental state, our bleak and depressing outlook on life, etc, etc, all the good things.”

Jeez. It’s a wonder any of us ever stayed here. I think I am a pretty good representative of a true “Clevelander.” I grew up in a middle class, Blue Collar family; my pops was a dyed in the wool union pipefitter who ate lard and speck sandwiches for lunch and made his own sausages and sauerkraut on the weekends for fun. I saw The Drive, The Fumble, The Shot. I used to go down to see the taping of the Big Chuck and Little John Show.  Hell, my last name is synonymous with Cleveland sports, and the “there’s always next year” shortcomings of all of our teams in the 1970s and 1980s.

I had the chance to attend the opening reception at Asterisk this past Friday night, and for the most part the artists were able to take a cheeky look at Cleveland politics, decades of sports failures, race relations and the joys of Cleveland winters. Obvious targets like Frank Jackson, Jimmy Dimora and Frank Russo were roasted in large oil paintings, as were other topics like the ubiquitous ODOT orange barrels, inexplicable traffic patterns and the foreclosure crisis that has gutted neighborhoods like Glenville and Collinwood.

I didn’t exactly leave having experienced any great epiphanies; but rather the consolation that there are others who are willing to not take things so seriously and poke fun at their fair city, and in turn themselves. I didn’t really get the sense of “grief and despair” that the gallery stated in its description, and aside from some mild controversy dealing with the Greater Cleveland Partnership’s Cleveland Plus campaign and some jabs at MOCA, the overwhelming feel of the show was of tongue-in-cheek nostalgia, not any angst-ridden views or negativity (disclosure; I am an employee of COSE and the Greater Cleveland Partnership). All in all, it was a well conceived show that created some good conversations at the pub next door afterward, and it was also impressive to see a large crowd spilling out of an independent gallery onto the sidewalks of Tremont that evening.